a day in the life...
Two years ago, if...
- i got to the office by 9am,
- i found a buttondown shirt in my closet that was clean and not too wrinkled,
- none of the meetings i had that day lasted longer than 20 minutes,
- my itunes party shuffle played a satisfying mix all day,
- my extension rang fewer than 5 times,
- my coworkers passed me a delivery menu for something i was really craving,
- i could squeeze onto the first subway train that came along and didn't have to wait for the next,
... I had a good day at work.
And now, if...
- i get to the kitchen by 2pm,
- i find a uniform in my size that's clean and not too wrinkled,
- i get to use more than five tools in my knife roll (chef knife, 9.4" slicer, boning knife, paring knife, 7" veg knife, etc.),
- i cut perfect 8 oz filets or 5 oz tuna steaks without using a scale,
- i'm fully prepped for dinner service by 5pm and have a chance to get some fresh air before the rush hits,
- at the end of the day i'm sweaty, greasy from the grill, my hands smell like garlic or tuna or salmon or hamachi, and i'm partially covered in something else's blood,
... I had a good day at work.
******
Nothing makes you feel more like a rookie than getting a new knife. It's a strange feeling that immediately grips your mind and body as soon as you fit the handle into your palm. It's a bit of "damn that feels comfortable," mixed with "shit that's sharp," and a whole lot of, "goddamn i hope i don't cut myself."
The knife glides through vegetables with such ease, that the only way I know that I'm actually cutting through something is the gentle pressure under the fingertips of my left, guiding hand. As I slice through meat or fish, all I have to do is set the heel of the blade in place and slide the knife towards me; the weight of the knife does all the work as it gently floats down to the cutting board in one smooth stroke.
Each time I grab the knife, on some subconscious level, I think I speak to it: "I know you are very sharp and you could cut me very seriously. So I obviously respect you, and hopefully you respect that I will treat you with the care and attention and caution that you deserve. I will never leave you lying about where you risk being picked up and abused by unappreciative cooks or dropped by inattentive runners. I will hone your edge when you begin to dull, and I will always clean you before putting you in your case. Without you, I could not do my work, earn my paycheck, make a living. Let's get through this together."
I know it sounds odd, but like I said, it's a strange feeling.
^^^^^
so, it finally happened. despite being highly under-qualified, under-skilled, and generally ignorant and clumsy around the kitchen, those fools made me sous chef. and where do i find myself today? sitting in front of a computer for three hours trying to update the dry goods inventory list and edit the pastry prep list (both in Excel). i guess five years of working in an office won't go to waste after all.
and my latest nickname is "sopa" (derived from 'sous chef' --> 'soup chef' --> 'sopa chef'). before long, they'll be calling me 'la sopa coreana'.
- i got to the office by 9am,
- i found a buttondown shirt in my closet that was clean and not too wrinkled,
- none of the meetings i had that day lasted longer than 20 minutes,
- my itunes party shuffle played a satisfying mix all day,
- my extension rang fewer than 5 times,
- my coworkers passed me a delivery menu for something i was really craving,
- i could squeeze onto the first subway train that came along and didn't have to wait for the next,
... I had a good day at work.
And now, if...
- i get to the kitchen by 2pm,
- i find a uniform in my size that's clean and not too wrinkled,
- i get to use more than five tools in my knife roll (chef knife, 9.4" slicer, boning knife, paring knife, 7" veg knife, etc.),
- i cut perfect 8 oz filets or 5 oz tuna steaks without using a scale,
- i'm fully prepped for dinner service by 5pm and have a chance to get some fresh air before the rush hits,
- at the end of the day i'm sweaty, greasy from the grill, my hands smell like garlic or tuna or salmon or hamachi, and i'm partially covered in something else's blood,
... I had a good day at work.
******
Nothing makes you feel more like a rookie than getting a new knife. It's a strange feeling that immediately grips your mind and body as soon as you fit the handle into your palm. It's a bit of "damn that feels comfortable," mixed with "shit that's sharp," and a whole lot of, "goddamn i hope i don't cut myself."
The knife glides through vegetables with such ease, that the only way I know that I'm actually cutting through something is the gentle pressure under the fingertips of my left, guiding hand. As I slice through meat or fish, all I have to do is set the heel of the blade in place and slide the knife towards me; the weight of the knife does all the work as it gently floats down to the cutting board in one smooth stroke.
Each time I grab the knife, on some subconscious level, I think I speak to it: "I know you are very sharp and you could cut me very seriously. So I obviously respect you, and hopefully you respect that I will treat you with the care and attention and caution that you deserve. I will never leave you lying about where you risk being picked up and abused by unappreciative cooks or dropped by inattentive runners. I will hone your edge when you begin to dull, and I will always clean you before putting you in your case. Without you, I could not do my work, earn my paycheck, make a living. Let's get through this together."
I know it sounds odd, but like I said, it's a strange feeling.
^^^^^
so, it finally happened. despite being highly under-qualified, under-skilled, and generally ignorant and clumsy around the kitchen, those fools made me sous chef. and where do i find myself today? sitting in front of a computer for three hours trying to update the dry goods inventory list and edit the pastry prep list (both in Excel). i guess five years of working in an office won't go to waste after all.
and my latest nickname is "sopa" (derived from 'sous chef' --> 'soup chef' --> 'sopa chef'). before long, they'll be calling me 'la sopa coreana'.